


And Stiles Makes Four

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Besides Dean, Sam, & Adam, what if John Winchester fathered another child?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More characters to come, both from Supernatural and Teen Wolf.

Stiles spun around to face his friend. “How could you not tell me?” **  
**

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Dude, I can handle myself.”

Scott arched a brow. “Really? You can handle yourself?” With lightning fast reflexes, Scott charged his friend, sending dirt and grass through the air. Shrieking in surprise, Stiles dropped to the ground and covered his head. Smirking, Scott shook his head and bent down to shake his friend’s shoulder. With wide eyes, Stiles stood and wiped the dirt from his clothes.

“Yeah, you killed it, Stiles.”

“I got out of the way, didn’t I?”

Rolling his eyes, Scott gave up the fight with a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“Dude, you’re a goddamn werewolf!”

“Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Stiles scoffed. “Whatever, man. You’re frigging faster than anything I’ve ever seen and… dude, have you bitten anyone?”

“God, no!”

“Really?”

“Stiles.”

“What? It’s an honest question.”

Scott turned away and started walking towards the house. “It’s a shitty question.”

Jogging to catch up, Stiles grabbed his friend’s arm. “Stop, man. Why are you acting like this?”

“You know why, Stiles.” Scott’s chocolate brown eyes flashed in irritation before he continued, “Your brothers are hunters, they kill things that go bump in the night; things like me. You’re honestly pissed that I didn’t tell you I’m a werewolf?”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a breath through his nose. “C’mon Scott. I… they wouldn’t do anything to you.”

“Right, because they have a history of letting the good monsters go.” Scott turned away and stormed up to his house.

Never one to give up, Stiles chased Scott into the house. “Does anyone else know?”

“Just the asshole that bit me. And Derek.”

Stiles’s eyebrows shot up. “Derek. Derek Hale knows you’re a werewolf.”

“Y- yeah. He’s sort of been helping me.”

Dropping down into the chair next to Scott, Stiles muttered, “I can’t believe you told a complete stranger over your best friend.”

“He’s not a complete stranger, Stiles.”

“He’s not your best friend either, Scott!”

Scott ran a hand over his face and up into his hair. “I’m sorry, ok? I was… I wanted to tell you.”

Stiles play-punched Scott in the shoulder, wincing when his friend’s shoulder didn’t budge like it used to. He shook his hand as he winced. “Dude, check you out.”

“Ok, so maybe it is kinda cool.” Scott chuckled sheepishly.

“Wait… what about your mom?”

“No! She can’t know. Promise me you won’t tell her.”

Stiles held up two fingers as if he were a boy scout. “Not a word, man.”

* * *

 

Dean spun the wheel, pulling onto the interstate just outside of Beacon County. “Rise and shine, Sammy, we’re almost there.” Sam yawned loudly from the back seat. Arms shot up before Dean saw a head of shaggy brown hair appear in the rear view mirror.

After he ran a hand through his hair, Sam hunched himself over the seat. “Did you tell him we were comin’?”

“And spoil the surprise? Fuck no. Besides, I wanted to touch base with Chris, see if he knew anything about the uptick in werewolf activity.”

Somehow, Sam managed to wrangle himself over the seat without kicking Dean in the back of the head. Once he was comfortable, he took a drink of Dean’s cold coffee, grimacing as he swallowed it. “Fuck, that’s nasty. When was the last time we stopped?”

Dean chuckled. “Not long after you crashed, ‘bout five hours back.”

“Didn’t think I was that tired.”

“Apparently you were, baby brother.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “There’s a gas station. Can we stop?”

He wasn’t about to tell Sam no, so Dean pulled off the Interstate. “Alright, but don’t take too long.”

“I just gotta hit the head and get some coffee. You want anything?”

Dean shifted the car into park and peered out the window at Sam after he stepped out. “Get me some pie!”


	2. Chapter 2

Scott’s nostrils flared, his attention was no longer on his computer or the fact that Stiles was softly snoring on the bed. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, Stiles could damn near fall asleep anywhere. Scott had to admit that he was slightly jealous of his friend’s ability. He turned to his door and listened intently as a deep-throated rumble of a car grew closer to the house.

“Shit, just what I need right now.” Scott stood and slapped the still sneakered foot of his best friend.

With a shout of surprise, Stiles jumped and thrusted his arms through the air. “What?! What’s goin’ on?”

Scott, wearing an amused smirk, slowly came into focus. “Dude, calm down. Your brothers are here.”

It took a moment for Scott’s words to sink in. When they did, his eyes went wide. “What?!” Stiles jumped off the bed and almost fell down the stairs, flinging the front door open just as Dean went to knock.

Both Dean and Sam were taken back by the sight of their wide-eyed and very surprised looking younger brother. It was Dean who spoke first. “Hey, kid.”

“D- Dean! Sam! Wh- what are you.. wh- why are you here?” Stiles awkwardly crossed and uncrossed his arms as he failed at looking relaxed.

“What, we can’t come and say hi to our baby brother?” Dean asked with a roll of his eyes.

Stiles narrowed his eyes as he looks at his half-brothers suspiciously. “Since when have you _ever_  dropped by just to say hi?”

Scott forced a smile. “You guys wanna come in?”

* * *

Sitting at the table with a bottle of beer in his hands, Dean kept a close eye on Stiles and Scott. While Stiles was always spastic and dorky, he was acting stranger than normal. He decided to ask Sam about it. “You notice Stiles acting weird?”

Sam snorted mid-drink. “Dude, it’s Stiles. When is the kid _not_  acting weird?”

“Very true, but look at him, man. He’s acting-”

“Just like Stiles.”

* * *

Stiles struggled to keep his voice to a whisper, “I’m telling you, Scott, they know something!”

“You’re overreacting.”

“What part of them being hunters do you not get? They _know_  things.”

Scott rolled his eyes and forced a smile when he noticed the Winchester brothers watching them. “The only way they’re going to know _anything_  is happening, will be because you can’t stop acting like a fucking spaz.”

* * *

It wasn’t until Scott and Stiles sat at the table that Dean gave any clue as to the real reason for their impromptu visit. “You guys notice anything… weird goin’ on?” The friends looked at each other a little too quickly for the Winchester’s liking.

Scott could hear Stiles’s heart thunder in his chest, and it was almost deafening.

“Weird? Wh- what do you m- mean, weird?” Stiles laughed nervously.

“You know what kind of weird we’re talkin’ about, Stiles. What we do isn’t exactly a secret to you.” Sam pointed at both teenagers because whatever Stiles knew, he made sure Scott knew as well.

When Stiles found out he had two older brothers, he had been pretty pissed off. Turned out his mom, in one of her fits, ran off and had an affair with John Winchester, getting pregnant as a result. The man that Stiles grew up thinking was his father, raised the baby as he were his own, and kept her secret until a couple years ago when Stiles needed a blood transfusion and while he was A positive, the sheriff was B negative.

_“Believe me, son, this isn’t the way I wanted you to find out,” he cried, his voice thick with regret._

Stiles, understandably angry and confused, demanded that the sheriff tell him everything. So, despite how difficult it was to tell Stiles his mother had been unfaithful, the elder Stilinski told his son everything he knew. But it was Stiles that dug deep, finding out that John Winchester hunted the things that went bump in the night. Not only that, but he had two… no, three other sons; all older than Stiles. Adam had died a couple years back, which Dean and Sam had apparently done, too. But unlike them, Adam stayed dead. It took almost a year to track them down.

“Wait… why would anything be going on here?”

Dean stared hard at the newest member of his small family. “What do you know about the Hales?”

Scott’s head whipped around just as the front door opened. “Scott, you home, sweetie?”

Dean and Sam stood as Melissa strode into the kitchen, arms laden with grocery bags. “I didn’t know you boys were coming.”

“We were in the area, figured it’s been awhile.” Sam rushed over to help with the bags, followed quickly by Dean.

Melissa sighed out a thank you before staring very pointedly at her son. “You see what’s happening here? This is what you should be doing.”

“Sorry, mom.” Scott’s sock-clad feet slid to a stop on the tile floor.

“Are you planning on staying long?”

Dean smiled warmly at Melissa. “Not sure yet, the length of our stay depends on a few things.”

With her shoes kicked off and her hair pulled into a ponytail, Melissa leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her stomach. “Mind me asking what?”

Dean turned his gaze to the two teenagers. “Again, not really sure yet. We need to stop by the Argents, have a talk with Chris.”

Scott almost dropped the carton of eggs and Stiles’s mouth fell open.

* * *

Chris gave Dean and Sam a quick hug, each person giving the other a firm clap on the back. “It’s good to see you boys again. How you been?”

“Alive and kickin’ ass, sir.” Dean smiled wide, following Chris down the hall.

“Stop calling me sir, makes me feel old,” the hunter’s voice was light with laughter.

Sam closed the door once they were all in the office. “How are things here in Beacon Hills?”

With a slight shake of his head, Chris dropped into a chair behind his desk, waving at the chairs across from him as a silent invitation to sit down. “Things are… interesting.”

Dean leaned back in his seat. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed, Chris.”

“A’course it hasn’t. Tell me something. How is Bobby these days?” Chris’s chuckle was dry.

It was Sam that answered, “Stubborn as he ever was. You’d know that if you returned his messages.”

“Who do you think taught me how to be stubborn?” The mood stayed light for only a moment before Chris changed the subject. “I suppose you’re here about the werewolves.”

“Lots of stories swirling around out there, even talk of a pack.”

Chris leveled Dean with a dark glare. “That ain’t all they’re talking about… is it?”

“It’s just talk,” Sam answered. “They don’t know anything about you or how your hunt.”

Before Chris could get defensive, Dean inquired, “What do you need from us, Chris?”

“You boys ever hear of the Hales?”

Sam and Dean chuckled, exchanging a look before Dean answered, “Funny you should ask.”

 

* * *

 

 

Chewing on his thumbnail and muttering under his breath, Stiles paced back and forth, twigs and leaves crunching under his feet. Scott, sitting on the steps, listened to the hushed words of his best friend.

This was bad. This was _really_  bad. The Winchesters had a reputation of shooting first, asking questions later; just like the Argents. With them, there was only black and white, no shades of grey in between, so it wouldn’t matter to them that Scott was just a kid, that he’d never do anything to harm anyone. Ever. No matter what anyone said.

Scott’s work with Derek was going… not great, but it was progressing. While Derek wanted to focus on meditation and getting a grasp on Scott’s newfound abilities, the only thing was that Scott wanted to know who bit him and why. Why turn a 16 year old kid into a fucking werewolf? Where was the logic in that? Wouldn’t they want someone older and smarter? Someone with actual resources instead of an asthmatic kid that played lacrosse and struggled with calculus. That’s what Scott would have done. You know, if he were a psychopath that liked to prey on the vulnerable.

“Dude, would you stop? You’re making me dizzy.”

Stiles shook his head, but continued pacing. “This is bad, Scott. If they’re here, then they know things. I _told_  you they know things!”

“So they know things, big deal. They’re not going to find out about me. Just because-”

“You’re a werewolf, Scott! How are they not going to find out that little piece of information?”

“Keep your fucking voice down,” Scott growled, his eyes flashing an unnatural shade of gold.

Stiles approached his now standing friend and grabbed Scott’s clenched fists. “I’m sorry, ok. I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”

Scott closed his eyes and pulled in a ragged breath, blowing it out with a soft groan. When he felt like he had control over himself, he met Stiles’s concerned gaze. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean and Sam sat on the bleachers, hands shoved deep into their pockets and shivering. “I thought California was supposed to be warm,” Dean complained, sounding more like a petulant child than a grown ass man.

“It’s November and the sun set over an hour ago,” replied Sam with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder.

Melissa had invited them to the lacrosse game earlier that day, saying, “I know it would mean a lot to Stiles.”

“Yeah, well, it fucking sucks.” Several parents turned to glare at the eldest Winchester, but their steely gazes did little to stop him. “Why are they playing at night, anyway? Isn’t this more a daytime thing?”

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes before facing his brother. “Shut up and watch the game, man. Stiles keeps looking over here.”

Sure enough, Stiles’ gaze fell on the brothers. He smiled and gave a wave before a member of the opposing team rammed into him, driving the gangly teenager to the hard earth with a loud grunt. Everyone in the stands and on the sidelines gasped, waiting for a signal from Stiles that he was fine. It came a moment later when Scott ran over and pulled the much larger teenager off his best friend.

Dean blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, cringing when he announced, “Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

Scott helped Stiles off the field, gave his friend a slap on the helmet, and ducked his head before rushing out to continue the play. The ref blew the whistle and the game commenced and yet, Dean still couldn’t focus.

“You think what Chris said about the Hales is true?” he asked Sam, keeping his voice to a harsh whisper this time.

“Which part, Dean? We were there for hours.”

He shrugged, the small movement allowing a blast of cool air to creep down the back of his neck. “All of it, I guess.”

Unlike his brother, Sam was enjoying the game. The last thing he really wanted to do was discuss werewolves. He arched his brow and stared hard at Dean. “I’m gonna go check on Stiles.” Dean sputtered, trying to quietly and quickly voice an argument, but Sam was too fast. He cursed under his breath before following, stomping his feet to try and regain proper blood flow.

Stiles was sitting on the bench, rolling his shoulders and trying hard to ignore the stab of pain that shot down his neck. _Fuck, that kid could hit hard!_  He about jumped out of his skin when Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“You doin’ ok, kid?”

Wincing, he stood slowly. “I’ve been worse.”

Dean couldn’t keep from scoffing. “I doubt that.”

Both Stiles and Sam glared at Dean, which made him do a double take between the two. “What?”

“The game usually this rough?” Sam asked after giving Dean a shake of his head.

Stiles shrugged, gritting his teeth in pain. “You don’t watch a lot of lacrosse, do ya? It depends, I guess.”

“Depends on what?” Dean inquired with a newfound focus.

“On which team we play.” At that moment, everyone let loose a cheer because Scott scored, effectively ending the game after sending the ball, not just _into_ the net, but through it.

The change in Stiles’ demeanor was immediate and didn’t go unnoticed by the trained eyes of Dean and Sam.

“I uh… I need to go,” he shouted before running to his friend.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he and Sam watched the interaction between Scott and Stiles. It wasn’t until Dean scoffed that Sam asked, “What?”

“Just seems a bit odd.”

“Wait, you don’t think that Scott-”

Shrugging, Dean turned and started heading towards the parking lot, effectively cutting off Sam’s question. “I don’t know what to think, Sam, but that,” he motioned back towards the field, “was weird.”

Scoffing, Sam shoved a hand through his hair. “Dean, shit like that happens all the time.”

Dean was shaking his head as he unlocked the car. “I get it happening in like… professional sports, but this? Sam, this is high school. In fucking Beacon Hills, California of all places.”

Sam was looking over the car at the still celebrating crowd. “I don’t know, man. Scott?”

“What’s it gonna hurt to check?”

* * *

While Stiles was pacing in his room, chewing on the cuticle of his thumb and muttering under his breath, Scott was sitting in the chair, spinning in slow, lazy circles. “Dude, how much Ritalin did you take?”

“What?” Stiles’ head popped up, his eyes wide and snapping into focus.

Scott couldn’t keep from laughing. “Ritalin. How much?”

“Seriously? You’re worried about how much Ritalin I took and not the fact that you sent the damn ball through the net in front of my hunter brothers? Please tell me you see the problem,” Stiles yelled across the room.

“Stiles, shit like that happens all the time.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right? It happens in professional sports, but not in high school.” With a frustrated sigh, Stiles resumed his pacing.

Had Scott been a bit careless at the end of the game? Sure, but he didn’t see the need for Stiles to be freaking out. “I don’t even think they noticed.”

Stiles’ laugh was borderline harsh. “Didn’t think they’d notice? Dude, they’re not fucking blind. It’s safe to say that they noticed.”

“What’s the big deal? They’re not gonna do anything to me.”

“Oh really? What makes you so sure?”

Scott stood and approached Stiles. “I’m your best friend, man.”

* * *

After three minutes at the nurse’s station, Dean sweet-talked his way into the record’s office. Since Melissa was working there, he needed to be careful. As far as he knew, she didn’t know about anything about the werewolf activity in town and the last thing he wanted to do was spill the beans. Then again, how would one go about telling someone their child was suspected to be a werewolf?

With a small flashlight in his hand, Dean began looking through the files, searching for both Scott and Stiles’ medical files. They weren’t hard to find, small town and all, but while he was there, Dean snagged every one of the Hale’s files as well. They were thick and bulky, uncomfortable under his jacket and tucked into the top of his jeans.

He shot a wink at the nurse on his way past and just as he was about to step out the front door, Melissa called out, “Dean, that you?”

_Shitfuck!_ Dean put on his best smile and turned around. “The one and only.”

Her brow was furrowed with worry. “Everything ok?”

“A’course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Melissa crossed her arms as she took in everything about Dean. “You tell me. Not everyday someone comes waltzing into my hospital with no one to visit.”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Really?”

Dean said the first thing that popped into his head, “You mind if we crash at your place?”

* * *

Carrying the duffel overloaded with clothes, Sam stopped Dean from knocking on the door. “This is the best idea you could come up with, crashing at Scott’s house?”

“What would you have said, Sam?”

“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t have been something stupid like, _you mind if we crash at your place?_ ”

Dean rolled his eyes and, before Sam could stop him again, knocked on the door. “It was the first thing I thought of. Besides, it’ll give us a good excuse to watch Scott.”

“Dude, he’s not a werewolf.”

Running a hand over his face, Dean groaned. “I’m not sayin’ he is. I just think it’s something we need to consider.” Sam was just about to argue further when the door opened.

With his eyes narrowed, Scott didn’t look too amused at the arrival of his house guests. “Come on in.”

The brothers brushed past, muttering their thanks when Stiles all but fell down the stairs, nudging Scott in the side when both feet were firmly planted on the ground. “They really gotta stay here?”

Scott snorted in laughter. “Like I’m gonna tell my mother no.”

“No, I get that, but _here_?”

Scott rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stiles, you’re my best friend and everything, but you gotta stop before we all go crazy.”

“But-,”

“No, Stiles,” he insisted before glancing at his watch. “Fuck, I gotta go to work.”

Sputtering, Stiles stared at Scott with wide eyes. “And what do you expect me to do?”

Scott shrugged into his jacket before answering, “They’re your brothers. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

Sitting on the front steps, Stiles chewed on his fingernails while watching Dean and Sam rifle through the trunk of their car. His left leg was bouncing erratically, and if Scott were sitting there with him, he’d have threatened to cut off Stiles’ offending appendage.

He had been sitting there, watching his older half-brothers, trying to appear as if he were outside enjoying the weather for almost an hour.

How the hell was he supposed to do this without letting it slip that, yes, his best friend was a werewolf? If he _did_  let it slip, they’d shoot Scott, put him down like a rabid dog. Werewolf, yes. Rabid dog, no. That would be the asshole that bit Scott.

Furrows knitted together, he remembered they had said something about talking to Alison’s dad. Maybe she could get her dad to spill the beans. Hunters like to share information with each other right?

Dean jutted his chin out as he closed the trunk. “Tellin’ ya,” he said to Sam. “Something is wrong with that kid.”

Sam huffed out his nose and shook his head. “Dude, he’s a teenager,” Sam repeated for the hundredth time since they arrived in Beacon Hills. “A teenager that is strung out on ritalin.”

Grinding his jaw, Dean picked up the heavy bag of weapons and walked side-by-side with Sam. “‘Member what Chris said?”

“Several kids have been turned into werewolves. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Maybe I do,” Dean snarked.

Sam jumped in front of his brother, stopping Dean with a hand to his chest. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam. “You know goddamn well what I mean,” he ground out, voice dangerous and dark, almost threatening.

Rolling his eyes, Sam scoffed. “I’m done with it, Dean. Have been for a while.”

“So you keep sayin’,” Dean muttered as he brushed past Sam.

Stiles gave a nervous smile as Dean marched towards him. “Need any help there, bro?”

Dean didn’t answer, just stomped up the stairs and into the house. “I guess not,” he laughed, wiping the dirt from his ass as he stood.

Stiles eyed Sam curiously, watching with narrowed eyes as he hung his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Sam,” he called out. “Everything good?”

Sam’s smile was forced, Stiles could tell from over ten feet away. “Aces,” he lied, giving his half-brother a thumb’s up.

* * *

Chris was just about to lock the front door when there was a knock. He was bone-weary and just wanted to relax with a glass of whiskey. Blowing out a ragged breath, he opened the door.

“Hey,” Dean greeted with a tight smile, hands shoved into his pockets.

Chris knew that look. It was the look of a man that needed to talk, that something was weighing him down so much, he couldn’t carry the burden by himself.

He stood back and opened the door. “Come on in.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each man drinking from their glasses, having to refill them only twice before Dean felt comfortable with telling Chris what was eating at him.

“It… it’s about Sam,” he murmured.

Chris didn’t understand, he had just seen them the other day. What could have happened between now and then. “He alright?”

Dean gnawed on his bottom lip in irritation. “Define alright.”

“Alive, uninjured, conscious,” Chris rasped his suggestions. If Sam was anything less than those things, he’d have hell to pay with Bobby.

After pouring himself another healthy serving, Dean shrugged. “We’ll go with those.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me what’s goin’ on, Dean,” Chris said sternly. “Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

Dean swallowed every last amber drop of whiskey before admitting what _exactly_ was happening. “Sam went through a rough patch a while back,” he rasped, voice wavering just enough that Chris tilted his head. He had known the Winchester boys since they were in their teens, even watched them one summer while John was drinking too much, sleeping not enough, hunting down the monster that killed his wife.

“What kind’a rough patch you mean?”

The only other person that knew about Sam’s addiction was Bobby, and he had taken it almost as hard as Dean did. Chris would be the first person that he uttered the words to. He blew out a ragged breath.

“Sam is… was addicted to demon blood.”

“Now when you say was, what does that mean?”

Chris took the news pretty well, Dean thought. Much better than Bobby had.

“Says he’s been clean since… well, since the apocalypse almost happened.” That was when Chris stood, pouring himself another drink, and swallowing it quickly.

“So that’s what started it, Sam’s addiction?” Chris rasped, his head spinning slightly from the whiskey.

Dean followed suit, standing and pouring more whiskey in his glass. “Technically, it was me,” he admitted flatly.

Chris stared hard at Dean, eyes wide, mouth open. It took a long moment before he spoke. “Come again.”

“When happened to me in hell-”

“The torture,” Chris interrupted.

Dean nodded curtly. “I broke the first seal when I accepted Alistair’s proposal. Killing Lilith, that was the last one.”

“I’m lost, son,” Chris admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The night that uh, that mom died, she found Azazel standing over Sam, feeding him his blood; demon blood,” the words tasted bitter on Dean’s tongue.

Even though he still didn’t understand, Chris nodded. “And this blood did what to Sam?”

“Now that’s the fucked up part,” Dean chuckled ruefully. “It gave him… abilities.”

It was Chris’ turn to chuckle. “Abilities?”

“Like it’s the craziest thing you’ve heard of? Come on, Chris. We hunt monsters for a fucking living.”

Chris arched a brow, nodding for Dean to continue. “It started happening a few years back. Sam started having these dreams, said they were prophetic, that what he was would happen. And sure enough, they came true.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Chris murmured.

“It happened with Jessica first, said he saw her burn the way mom did. Couple’a weeks later, Jess was dead. They started happening more and more, and then, outta fuckin’ nowhere, this demon bitch showed up, said she could help. Should’a fuckin’ gutted here from the start.”

Chris poured the last of the whiskey into Dean’s empty cup. “She the one that got Sam addicted?”

Dean’s head bobbed up and down heavily. “She fucked with Sammy’s head, got him thinking he could save people by drinkin’ her blood.”

“How’d she do that?”

“He could exorcise demons using his mind,” Dean muttered under his breath. “As long as there was no critical damage done to the body, they survived the possession. The blood dialed his power up to a fucking fifteen, he was… powerful, Chris. Never seen anything like it.”

“And he used this ability to kill… Lilith, right?”

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth before answering, “Ruby said it was the only way to keep Lucifer in the cage. Only it opened a portal, and Lucifer walked right out.”

Chris whistled low as he leaned back against the wall. He wanted to say something, anything, but words failed him. He watched as Dean sat back down and sighed heavily.

Fuck, Dean was tired, he could feel it in his bones. He had been thrown through doors and walls by demons and wendigos, torn apart by hellhounds, climbed out of his own goddamn grave. He just wanted a fucking break.

* * *

“Dude,” Stiles whispered harshly as he literally slid around the corner, sneakers screeching loudly in the small room. “We got a situation.”

Scott’s pupils dilated in anger. “You told them?!” he snarled, claws starting to push through his fingertips.

“What? No way,” he denied, eyebrows furrowed as he readjusted the plaid shirt he was wearing. “Nothing like that.”

“Jesus, Stiles,” he breathed, eyes flashing back to brown after every muscle in his shoulders relaxed. “Don’t fucking do that to me.”

Stiles ground his teeth for a moment. “Are you not hearing me? We. Have. A situation,” Stiles seethed, fed up with no one listening to him just because he was a spastic, bumbling, awkward teenager that didn’t have some sort of supernatural abilities.

Scott rolled his eyes. “You’ve told me, already. You’re scared Dean and Sam will find out about me. But they won’t!”

“First, you don’t know that,” Stiles said pointedly. “Second, that’s not the situation.” That got Scott’s full attention.

“Oh?”

Stiles shifted nervously on his feet. “You uh, you sure no one can hear?”

“The only person here is Deaton,” Scott admitted. “And he’ll be busy for a while.”

“Something’s going on between Dean and Sam,” Stiles blurted out.

Scott chuckled in the back of his throat. “Seriously? Dude, they’re brothers. It’d be weird as hell if there _wasn’t_ something going on.”

“Would you just listen to me?!” Stiles snapped, his hands slapping the table loudly. “I _saw_ it, Dean is fucking pissed at Sam.”

While Scott was taken aback by his friend’s reaction, he didn’t completely blame him. It wasn’t the first time he had brushed off Stiles’ conspiracy theory. “Do you know why?”

Stiles shrugged half-heartedly. “Just watched Dean snap at Sam, then overheard Dean mumbling something about Sam, and a woman; Ruby.”

Scott’s phone rang, making Stiles yelp at the interruption. Sliding his finger across the screen, he smiled wide. “Alison, hey,” he greeted, his smile faltering slightly.

“Dean’s here, and he’s saying some crazy shit,” Alison said, pacing in her bedroom.


End file.
